This will be your last salvo from Felis Catus pre-Christmas.*
But before this blog twinkles out for the cool Yule, a reverie for you.
I could type ’til I’m weak in the fingers about how Christmas has become too hustling and we’ve lost the peaceful pondering and “be still and know that I am God” goodness of Advent in the fog of MUST BUY ALL THE THINGS!!!.
But now that the manic frenzy is winding down, breathe deep, sip your peppermint tea, and let the cats restore your serenity.
Cats don’t lose their cool.***
Cats don’t worry about which sparkly dress to wear.
Cats don’t lose sleep over making the perfect Thomas Kinkadey Christmas (which would be kind of Stepford-creepy anyway, but I digress).
Cats don’t regift.****
Cats don’t despair.
Cats know how to be.
My wish for you this Christmas, then, is that you will know how much you are loved just as you are. Just for yourself. Just simply as a wonderful human bean (because if we were “human doings,” that phrase would fail, and that would be tragic). You are the sum total of all your faith, hope and love - and more splendor than you could ever imagine.
The cats and I know that, because they’re the beneficiaries of your youness. And, all year ’round, we are fully incapable of fully thanking you. But we’ll never stop trying.
Sleep in heavenly peace.
*Barring all posts by PWhAM (People Who Aren’t Me, such as Ronathan or Webster).
**Yes, Cecille has become a veritable pork chop. Yes, she looks bigger and better than ever.
***Unless someone is biting them on the tuckus/delaying their Fancy Feast/looking at them funny/not scratching their ears for a sufficiently lengthy duration. But those are valid reasons for loss of cool.
****They just shred things they don’t like. Much more satisfying anyway.
*****Yes, Trey has always been a pork chop.